Friday, February 22, 2008
strange powers
Damn snow, foiling my attempt to act in the wake of last night's surge of inspiration. Really quite the movie, though I would've appreciated a more in-depth look at Kenya and the pervasive impact of running there, as well as some more food porn. Re: the latter, all viewers are treated to is Gu packets--how scrumptious!--a bucket of mediocre-looking fried chicken, a plate of everyday spag & meatballs, and a 'deleted scenes' clip of Deena Kastor cookin' up some admittedly mean-looking avocado enchiladas. Really, though, that's about it for complaints. The selection of profiled runners is satisfying in range of ability and life experience, and the lineup of professionals/experts (Hal Higdon, Amby Burfoot, John Bingham, Jeff Galloway, Kathryn Spitzer...) exhaustive. The landscape shots stun (especially dazzling--Kastor and her crew training amidst an endless and idyllic expanse of countryside) and the words on running as metaphor for life are elegant, if not, well, predictable (inevitable). If/when it begins showing on more screens, it's def worth a see.
Thing is, I can't really damn the snow. It's very pretty--for at least another hour, before the rain/sleet/muck hits. And while it did thwart this a.m.'s running effort (I called it after 2.5 miles of too-much), it was good for a laugh in the process. Funny, it was sortof the opposite of last w/e's running experience--Saturday and Sunday sessions made practical by the tossing into the mix of a few strategic errands.
Saturday I set out early for the West Village via Manhattan Bridge (while in theory I prefer the famed Brooklyn, in practice the clackity-clack of all those wooden slats gets to be a bit much after a while), precise destination W. 11th. It was a potential sublet option I was scheduled to check out, and well, six days later I can say w/ 100 percent surety that from March 1 through April 30 (31st?), said option = home. Yeah, yeah, my heart's still rooted in Park Slope, but when presented w/ the riDICulous opportunity to pay the same rent for a place--a studio all my own, not a single room, no less--surrounded by some of New York's finest ghosts, one does not turn the other cheek. Especially when one such studio includes a generous 12-paned window revealing much natural sweetness beyond, crisp white walls, and a robust Internet connection. (We won't go into the mini-fridge/lack of stove/shared bathroom/150 sq ft dimensions--hi college, I'm back!) The entire block's a brick-laid dream, tucked between 24-hour diners, time-honored bagel shops, Ricky's (gotta have one)... Gonna write lots. Gonna read lots. Gonna have people over for wine & storytime. I'm beyond excited. I can't talk.
Anyway, en route to home #433,453, I swung through the Financial District, which is an area I tend to steer clear of in favor of the nearby Battery Park/Westside Highway stretch. Not this day though, on this day I ran straight through--taking Pine Street I think it was, which at some point narrows substantially and becomes enticingly dim, barren, hushed on bitter-cold non-workdays such as this... Everything really does close down come Saturday, only faintly suggesting the M-F clamor that's always just around the corner. And then there's Trinity Church spindling out over all that capital... Looking back, this fleeting segment was the high point of the run, reasons stated.
The next morning, Sunday, I used a near-identical course to reach Timmy & co. for brunch. Lured there in part by promises of mac & cheese on par w/ Mo's (RIP, dearest), I was... not disappointed. But not blown away, either. Just really hard to beat a solid brick of deep-fried, four-cheese goodness, I guess. Yeah, so I waited, mm, two hours for my digestive system to do what it does best, then taking again to the road, course reversed. This leg of the journey didn't feel as fine as the first (uhh), but I was able to stop and snap some neat photos (views of Chinatown/East River from the bridge) along the way (post to come), which is good for something.
I don't know, maybe it's the Virgo in me, maybe it's something primitive, but I sometimes find it intensely satisfying to connect daily purpose (and gluttony, apparently) with sport. Because while I love what running does for me psychologically, and sometimes spiritually, it can also feel good to be efficient, practical. Makes me think of last night's movie--a scene wherein a young Kenyan guy is interviewed about how he runs a combined 10 miles to/from school every day. Of course, he does this out of sheer necessity, which is altogether a different story, but being able to rely completely on one's own power to move through the day--this feels important.
Return to gluttony: I've been a cupcake queen as of late, whipping up a few dozen for an ex-coworker's daughter's first bday party (I was paid! a real job!), then a batch last w/e for Mr. Doug's 30th bday extravaganza. (The latter ones--vegan chocolate cake w/ vegan vanilla buttercream and hot pink sprinkles all the way--earned me, I will say, mountainous praise and a sliver of disbelief. Again, pictures to come.) On a related front, Ms. Sandypan (full speed ahead, biz school!) and I rounded through the 'hood on Saturday, hitting up a selection of coveted PS coffee shops in search of... inspiration. Scrupulous note-taking was completed, fancyass spreadsheet is in the works. (E, you're still a partner! Full rights! Only thing: Pan nixed the salon component--something about cupcakes and blowdryers not mixing, blah blah. Anyway, I'll work on changin' that mind of hers if you work on... moving?)
Next up: Oh, just this. Yeah, just that.
Photo credit: http://66.230.220.70/images/post/jacobs/08.jpg
Read or Post a Comment
So glad I'm still in the ranks of being a partner! Perhaps there could be enough distance between the goodies and the blowers- a breezeway maybe.
A breezeway!